Looks like I'm gay now.

I want to tell you a story about how I was raped. I'm 18 years old, my name is Maxim. To start, I want to say that I really love women's tights and leggings. No, I'm not gay, I just love wearing them and walking around the house, stroking myself, but I never even thought about gay sex.

So, a week ago, I went to the city on business and stopped by a tights store. It had a very enticing name: Paradise of Tights. I went in and bought three pairs, but here's the catch: my friends were supposed to meet me, and I was buying gifts for them, and they could have seen the tights. I went into the bathroom and decided to put them on myself. I opened the pink ones and put them on first, then the purple ones, and on top, black leggings. And since the tights

were a hundred denier, after I put on my jeans, my legs seemed thick, but I didn't care anymore—I was late for the bus.

The ride was long—two and a half hours. The bus was overcrowded with people. I stood at the very back of the bus; it was cramped. But when the bus stopped at the next stop, even more people got on. Then I heard the voice of my most hated enemy. He was standing behind me.

His name is Sasha. I've hated him since first grade; he always called me a fag. And now he's standing behind me and says, "Well, little cocksucker, you should look around when you're pulling tights on yourself. Now I'll probably tell everyone, especially since I have a couple of photos of you jerking off in tights in the bathroom, you faggot." I stood there stunned, thinking my reputation was ruined and I'd be considered gay forever.

Then he grabbed my ass. His words pierced me and gave me a chance. "Now I'm going to fuck you carefully; you won't resist." I was silent, didn't know what to say. He unbuttoned my jeans; they slid down to my knees over the leggings. He pulled my underwear down there too, stroked me from behind, slapped my ass, and pulled the leggings and tights lower.

I was very embarrassed, afraid that the whole bus could see us, but a fat woman was blocking us. He wet his finger and stuck it in my ass. I yelped; he covered my mouth and said mockingly, "So, you're still not gay?" I shook my head. He laughed and said, "You will be now." He tried to insert himself into me but couldn't. Then he said, "There's a stop soon; we'll get off normally, like always. But if you don't want everyone to find out about you, come to the abandoned bathhouse in two hours. Understood?" I nodded. "Don't forget to put the tights on," he said. I put on the tights and jeans. "And when you come to me, wear only one pair."

We got off. I walked home, took off the tights, and decided to prepare. I stretched myself with whatever I could; it was painful even with a finger. I put on the lilac tights and went to the old bathhouse. As I approached, I heard voices. When I entered, I saw Sasha and two of his friends; I didn't know them well.

Sasha grabbed me by the hair and punched me in the stomach. "Well, faggot, you shouldn't have clenched your ass on the bus, you bitch. Now we're going to tear you apart." He ripped my pants completely off, and just as he was about to rip the tights, the blond one said, "Don't, he still has to go home in them." He pulled them down. "Well, we need to wet it." And the three of them started pissing on my ass and back. I cried from fear and shame; it was disgusting and smelled strongly of urine. Sasha came up to my face and said, "Open your mouth." I opened it; he shoved his dick in my mouth and said, "Suck." I started sucking him off.

I sucked him for about two minutes. He pulled out his dick, and another guy shoved his in, while Sasha came from behind, wiped my ass with my pants, spat on the hole, and pressed his dick against it. I stopped sucking and immediately got hit in the face, so I started sucking again. Then Sasha's dick suddenly entered me. I screamed with a dick in my mouth and in my ass. It felt like the dick went all the way in, but it turned out only the tip went in, and not even all of it. I jumped up, holding my ass, and ran to the corner.

With the words, "Where are you going, faggot?" Sasha came over and hit me several times. Then the two others grabbed me and bent me over the windowsill. Sasha came again and shoved his dick into me, deeper this time, then all the way in. I screamed and kicked; it was unbearably painful. But when he was about to finish, I didn't care what would happen to me anymore. I just lay there, tears streaming from my eyes.

When he finished, he pulled out his dick. They moved me onto the boards, and the other two fucked me, but by then I was barely conscious and didn't care. The thought kept spinning in my head: "I hope no one finds out."

When they all finished, they lifted me up, put me on my knees, and shoved their dicks in my mouth. Then one pissed on my dick. They said, "Put on the tights." I somehow put them on, and they sent me home with the words, "Get lost, slut. We had a good fuck."

I came home, took everything off—luckily, no one was home. I washed up, then drank something, washed the tights, and went to sleep. But then I got a text with a photo of me putting on the tights, followed by a video of Sasha tearing my ass apart, and it was a forwarded video from my friends. Now I calmly buy tights whenever I want. Sometimes guys come over to fuck me. Now I'm a whore.